Again
by I want to be Jesse's girl
Summary: Sequel to Always finally . Still in Paul's POV - thirteen years later Paul is a successful lawyer in Australia but he still hasn't forgotten Suze. He also dwells on his life in Settle. But the story is not over - coz the past will always haunt you
1. Author's Note

Alrighty so this is the sequel to _Always_ which I know was meant to be a one shot but some people wanted a sequel so this is _dedicated_ to them coz only they bothered reviewing or saying yes to the prospect of a sequel. So drum roll please (lol).

**jayd-n33** – _For_ _suggesting a sequel in the first place and for always reviewing my stuff_

**Hot n' Exotic**_ - For the wonderful review. God girl you seriously made me blush. Thank you it was so appreciated and if I'll be truthful your words made me think of getting off my a** and doing some work. Hope I don't disappoint. Guys by the way check out Ami's stories it truly is amazing. By the way I don't think I have told you this but your pen name is so cool._

**Bunnylass**_ - What can I say Jax? You're totally awesome, always encouraging me and all. And trust me when I say if you haven't checked out Jax's stories you are missing out. She truly writes so well but I don't think she realizes really how good the quality is. Seriously it's sooo good people - and her Jesse's are... - if they were more perfect I would be having a heart attack...at 18.  
_

**_Bec_**_ - Thanks for being honest and voting for the sequel. You rock._

**Love you all guys - big round of hugs for you and I haven't forgotten the Cookies...lol**


	2. Lawyers are liars

**DISCLAIMER: **This is a take on Cabot's awesome series The Mediator if you haven't read it then WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING IN THE MEDIATOR SECTION. lol. Hope you enjoy.

So really there are 5 things that you may want to know for this fic:

1. It occurs after _Always_ which is another one of my fic but you don't necessarily have to read it to get this one

2. This is in Paul Slater's POV (and only going to be in Slater's POV)

3. He moved to Australia – where I am (woo hoo) – but don't worry he kept his American passport so I'm still leaving him American

4. Paul is 32 and so is Suze – this is 13 year after Always

5. And the reason that he is in the law profession for only 9 years according to the article is because law school takes 5 years to do and then you have to do some practical training or another course or something for another year – which makes a total of 6 years

(For this fic we are just going to make it easier by saying that he did two years he did during Always when he was in Carmel and there was no problem changing over and all and he did not have to repeat any years due to the difference in the law and all)

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**AGAIN**

**Chapter 1: Lawyers are Liars  
**

_Internet Source: Media_

**Guilty Guy Gets Charged**

**It's almost been a year since the gun down of the Chamber brothers and only now can it truly be said that police are unraveling the truth behind their deaths. **

**Chris and Lee Chambers were notorious for their involvement with the 'Dockies', the gang who have been closely linked to the deaths of at least ten people although no charges have been laid. The 'Dockies' consisted of several more players and it seemed that there was much internal conflict with several disturbances occurring within the gang, brawls or otherwise.**

**The death of the Chambers seemed to only increase this tension with a number of its members landing in hospital for 'minor' cases of bashing to bullet wounds. Police have finally tracked down the man they think is responsible for the crime. At present, Guy Stevens, another member of the Dockies is a key suspect after DNA evidence linked him to the scene of the crime. He was charged today on two counts of first degree murder but he has pleaded 'not guilty' to the crime. **

**No one seemed surprised when Stevens chose Paul Slater to represent him in the court of law. Despite the fact that Mr. Slater has a little less than nine years of experience in the field of law, he seems to be a sought after especially in the cases of big shots who have the money and resources to fund his bill. He has been involved in many controversies choosing to "stick with the gray side of the law." He has defended several counts of murders and murderers, which include names such as Carl Williams and Andrew Veniamin. He has developed quite a reputation outside the law as well, known widely for his wealth and good looks as he is for the countless women at his side.**

**There is much undisclosed information involved in the case of the double homicide. No witnesses and very little evidence had left the police without a trail to track the murderer. There is mystery surrounding this case which may work to Stevens' advantage. The hearing is at the end of this month. It may grant Stevens the perfect Christmas gift. **

The law has variations. It changes from case to case, from year to year. If you find precedent, the outcome is set. The law in truth does not provide justice; that is simply a myth that people developed to feel more secure. If anything the last ten years have thought me that.

A 'good' lawyer does not merely rely on facts and evidence, rather we create them. Half truths, manipulation are one among the many tactics we use in the court of law but of course no one breaths a word about it. After all, it is widely known that "lawyers are infact liars."

Stevens is guilty. I know that, he knows that. Hell! I am willing to bet that even the judge is aware of that fact. Or so I think, as I stand here in court defending Stevens. The great thing about defending criminals such as Stevens is that they are masterminds. They have countless guys who are willing to cover their backside. Not because of loyalty but fear for these guys. Well, they have power. Lots of it, and they would rather say in their good books than the contrary. Not only that but they are clean cut. Even if the murder is gruesome, they get some one or the other to clean up and the evidence is left to a minimal.

As I expected the outcome is to our favour. The charges against Stevens are dropped and I couldn't be happier. After working on this case for a gut wrenching ten months I needed a break from it. From all of it.

Most people say that I am living the dream. I guess that bears some semblance of truth. After all I did gain what I always wanted. Money, wealth, power, influence, women. Everything I asked for, I got but the dream that I actually needed. Craved for? She got away.

Despite the thirteen years that have passed, my feelings for her have not really changed. I stay away from the brunettes, choosing to engage in 'casual encounters' only with blonds, who bear more similarities to Kelly Prescott than I would like.

I changed physically, choosing to spend more time at the gym then I used to, removing my frustration through the means of exercise. The clean shaved look that I sported as a teen? That too was replaced, in favour of a goatee. All for her. To remove the tainted influence she had on me. In a twisted way, it was funny. I was still living for her, despite the miles of distance I put between us.

I haven't gone back. Not to Carmel. Not even to America in the thirteen years. I would be lying if I said I hadn't thought about it. There is hardly a day that goes back when I don't think of her. Or Carmel. Or even Settle, the home to my childhood. Not that it could really be called one.

Not like they really missed me. My parents, I mean. They are too busy with their own life to really care about mine. But at least my success gives them a pretty picture to paint for all their uptight friends. It was truly the only thing they cared about. Impressions and money and more money.

Even Jack had chosen to keep some distance. Not that I blame him. But what can I say?

The truth was Jack was a pure replica of Grand Pops. Deciding to confide that he had the ability to see dead people to anyone and everyone wasn't the smartest of moves. I knew that, even at the age of a year and a bit when the discovery of my ability led me to realize that I was _very special_.

The thesis of Dr. Oliver Slaski which I discovered at the age of ten thought me many things and simply re enforced that rule of secrecy which I had developed since I was a kid. My family had many secrets too. Not only about the true identity of my grandfather but deeper ones, darker ones.

My responsibility as their oldest son was to keep my mouth shut and project an image of the perfect kid. Smart; athletic; popular. Not that the third one really worked for me back in Settle. Being in a boy's school and having a few of the guy's girls on my trail wasn't quite the easiest way to gain friendship. Nor, was the fact that despite restricting my study of my potential as a shifter to after school hours, it still haunted me in the truest form, at least at the start of my teen years before I realized how to do away with it. And the perfect image that I had to portray. Yeah, that didn't sit too well with them either.

It wasn't worth the effort, to gain their approval, I realized, especially when I got what I needed. Girls were literally flocking at my sides and I chose and discarded after use. Not that it went well with their brothers but that was all I ever committee to.

I also began to realize something. Fear was a prized possession and for a person to be intimidated. Well, there needed to be a reflection physically of the element of threat. Hence I favoured leather jackets in place of hoodies. Brown and black over white and blue. The intense workout session and the six pack that I developed did not hinder, rather it worked to my favour. There were even more girls and very few guys decided to take up a one to one punching session with me, even if I did indeed 'sleep' with their girl

Carmel changed that. When my parents said that we were going to California for a holiday I couldn't muster up any enthusiasm after all, we had traveled all over the world. Singapore, Canada, Egypt. You name it.

Their need for traveling was simply a symptom of this rich society crap that had been pushed down my throat since the day that I was born. It was what people among my parent's social circle did. What they expected us to do. So we did it, to fulfill their expectations.

Little did I know or in fact, anticipate what was waiting for me in the little town of Carmel. Had I known maybe I wouldn't have bother. Maybe things would have been different. Perhaps, but I'm probably deluding myself.

I remembered the first time I saw her. She was hot. Great rack, long wavy hair and smooth pale skin that glowed slightly with the offset of a tan. I remember thinking that she would be good for a little old holiday ride. I saw her as a sexual object and nothing more. Trying to win her over. Not that she succumbed to my advances. Maybe that was the reason for the obsession. The fact that she said 'no' when no one else did.

Of course once I started to get to know her better I was intrigued. By what she was, by who she was. Another shifter. I never really met any of those varieties and definitely not in the hot, female persuasion.

Slowly I realized I was developing more than a crush. Big time, and whatever it was, it was infecting me fast. Fast enough that I decided to move as close to her as possible. It was easy enough to say bye to Seattle and my parents. I may miss Jack a little, but not enough to make me want to forgo the new plan.

It didn't quite work out to my favour. But then nothing really did. At least I got her on my bed. More than a few times but that was not enough. Especially when she pushed me away. Of course that is the sole reason I decided try my luck in Australia. Not that I would admit it to anyone.

There in lies my current predicament. Despite my success, my countless 'friends' I was lonely. These women were only really good for one thing and it was sufficient for now. It's ironic, I guess. So many people would literally kill to be in my shoes but in many ways I just want to be ordinary.

Christmas was just around the corner and my plans? They were merely to go to some said party where I would hang out with a bunch of people I didn't know. Get drunk and later on, get laid.

Sounds great? Well it truly wasn't. After the first two years, it starts to get repetitive.

The screeching ring of my phone disturbed my thoughts. I debated as to whether I should simply let it ringing or pick it up. Knowing it would probably be Christina, or Louise, or some other bimbo. I chose the latter for some unknown reason, despite the fact that I didn't recognize the international number.

I was surprised to hear the pitch perfect sound of my mother's voice, muffled by sobs. I couldn't quite grasp what she was saying but obviously it wasn't the best of news and definitely something big, considering it's been around six years since one of us even bothered with a birthday card.

"Mum?" I said, successfully managing a perfectly calm and chilled tone. It's not like the bitch really cared

"Pa…Paul…Jack…he's…look you got to come back here…it'…"

After all these years she calls and for a second there I though that maybe, just maybe she cared. Like that had ever been the case. I was so sick of her bullshit. Like I cared about what she had to say. In truth, I was cursing her. Actually about to let one out but I got hold of my tongue just in time. "What the…look you can't dictate to me, okay? You can't just tell me to come back coz you feel like a family get-together. I'm sure you'll be able to sort out whatever it is. Look hate to cut to this phone call short but…"

"No, Paul…you don't understand...", more sniffles. "Jack...Jack's dead. It was a car accident..." And more tears. I was stunned, surprised. Jack. Dead. My little bro. What would he be? About twenty four. No, that…

She had to be joking, just had to be, "Look whatever game you're playing at…just stop it okay. Jack was completely…"

That statement seemed to upset her. Her tone was slightly raised, "Paul, I really don't want to fight. The funeral is in two weeks. In Carmel. The Mission, where you used to go to school…Okay? I have send a formal invitation to your work address. Come if you want to. I've told you. Now I'm done."

And with that she hung up the phone, leaving me to face the mess I left years ago. And many questions and well the only solution is to go back to Carmel.

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**By the way if anyone has questions about the source (it's not meant to be a newspaper thing. And I know it's not editorial material so sorry about that). It was just meant to introduce you to the case and no the case is not important. And I am guessing you guys would know Carl Williams? Well he's a big time criminal here in Aussie land and if you guys have heard of Tony Mokbel well I think he's done some deals with him - sorry I don't know much about it.  
**

**But anyways onto the story. So what do you'll think? Is it alright? Worth doing another chapter. I won't hold it against you if you say no coz seriously it wasn't in my plan to actually do Always and of course since this stemmed from that - neither were actually well things that I have thought of doing. But you know what I am kinda liking doing Paul POVs. Not that they are necessarily good but I read the 5th and 6th book especially the parts with him to just a little more of an overview and well this is sort of my take although I reckon of course the Mediator series Paul is more sexier and probably has a different story (...I have a little bit of a crush on him - and well there's this guy who I am crushing on who is seriously like him - brown hair (not blonde check out the books guys) even down to the blue eyes and this guy has got a lot of sexiness as well)...Anyways sorry I get carried away.**

**So what do you think? Another chapter...Thanks for reading and if you review, well I will appreciate it immensely.**


	3. Solitude

**Disclaimer:**_Already discussed the Cabot thing – yeah yeah Meg owns the characters, blah, blah, blah…but yeah I was doing some research into the Mediator not only from the books but also from this lovely site. So there is some stuff that I have taken from various fics - belonging to Nice Hayley and others soooo yeah. I may have some stuff here and there that could be linked to various fics. So yeah disclaimer._

**By the way have I told you I love you guys. No seriously I do. Especially you reviewers, you rock my socks off. No seriously, you do…Thank you guys so much. You know who you are coz you'll reviewed. So anyways thanks to: Hot n' Exotic, jayd-n33, Nebulous Paragon**

**Nce Hayley: **a special thanks for checking out the fic at my request and the suggestion...

**Bunnylass: **Thanks for the rocking review. And happy 21st for tomorrow...see I didn't forget ...Hope you have a fun time, hun.

**Bec: **thanks for reviewing. And you liked it? Heck that's awesome. Hope you like this as much. Crossing my fingers. Thanks so much hun.

**Thanks so much guys. You'll seriously rock. I was totally and utterly gobsmacked by the sheer greatness of your reviews (although I don't know if this time around the reviews will be as complimentary)**

**Sorry that it took so long. Believe it or not, this was not laziness, I just wasn't sure how to go about it - I had a certain angle to this story don't worry it's going somewhere. I don't know about this chap though. But all is mentioned for a reason...So please R&R - don't hesistate to ask any questions, etc. The next chap should be up faster than this one - hopefully in 2 weeks - already that's the deadline then...**

**Oh and warning before hand people: THIS HAS A BIT OF CUSSING, ETC...YES NAUGHTY NAUGHTY ME - ACTUALLY PAULIE...  
**

**So onto the chapter. Hope you'll like...**

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**Chapter 2****: Solitude**

Whiskey. 'A solution for the frazzled nerves,' or so Jim used to say. Of course he ended up having liver cancer but that's a different story.

The four or so shots that I had consumed had left me with much to desire. I was far from drunk and the alcohol that I had scorched down did nothing to soothe me.

The past few days, I attempted to pass in a similar manner. Confiding myself within the four walls, I drank to my sorrows. Drowning in the bitter sweet taste. However, my request for solitude was most often denied. Despite disconnecting my phones, I was forced to socialize, considering the number of visitors that graced my apartment.

For most parts, I followed the social etiquette. Brushing them away stating of my urgent need to be elsewhere, "A matter that requires my attendance overseas." Their questions of where, why and what were left unanswered.

Not all my guests were dealt with, in such a manner. But I was polite enough. A single fingered gesture instead of a full fledged punch. That was just too bad considering that the sound of a jaw breaking would have been quite satisfying.

I guess I could have satiated myself elsewhere. But when Brooke and Christina came over, I told them that I wasn't in the mood. When life was fucking you over, fucking someone didn't seem the best of options. Especially when it was just that. A meaningless fling.

On second thought, that might be exactly what I need. To feel something other than rage. The self hatred.

Life was not perfect. I knew that. Spencer summarized the idea pretty well, the "survival of the fittest."

If you don't have the money, the power; you're the loser, and the winners? They were people like Guy Stevens. And if you don't like it, that's just too bad.

Life was one stinking bitch. It provided an explanation for why life was so fucked and why Jack…_Was dead_

I'll admit it. I wasn't too fond of the bugger when I lived with him. He was just plain embarrassing and to think he came from the same gene pool. Unfortunately for the little fellow, he seemed to have missed out on many of the attributes that I received. Not only did the kid ramble on and on about seeing "dead people," making it into this massive deal, but he also said it in that real stupid way, that would have gained him a role in The Sixth Sense or some shit.

I tried to help him. I really did.

I attempted to convince him that dead people in fact did not exist, which was kind of hard considering that ghosts tended to hang around our place. Nevertheless to say, it didn't work, the kid stood his ground. After a while I decided to screw it. It was getting way too boring anyway. Besides I got busy…with other stuff.

Once I hit the age of 14 and understood more of the 'shifter's trick'…the ghosts didn't bother me so much anymore although there were the odd few who hadn't heard the graveyard talk. Obviously.

Poor suckers, the Shadowland wasn't the best place.

But I kept a few. Only the ones who were useful enough. Who weren't clueless in all things ghostly, so to speak. I thought them some stuff, but not enough so that they could screw me over. More often than not, they obliged. But then their choice was limited: Me or what would in their case, most likely, be eternal damnation.

Jack eventually found out. But that was a long story. A story to do with a girl I would much rather forget. Ironically, she seemed to occupy most of my thoughts. He admired her though.

I did too.

Still do. She was a heck of a girl.

Green eyes. That was my personal nickname for her. She was perfect, except for her love for a corpse…which led to her intense dislike for me. And fuck! She was a looker too. No wonder the kid liked her. Show him a hot chick and he was putty in her arms.

I was more pathetic than he was though. I mean, what guy doesn't forget a girl after 13 years? Seriously 13 fucking years.

The kicker was that I probably would be seeing her again. I didn't know if she knew about the kid, whether she still was in Carmel. I guess I could have found out, after all having money and being linked to the right guys gave you a lot of resources. I didn't though. It just didn't feel right.

I didn't extend the same courtesy to my parents though. Apparently the 13 years hadn't been a bouquet of roses for them either. The two were divorced after Rick was caught 'cheating' on my mom. Right like Nancy wasn't a slut who slept her way to the top.

Either way it wasn't a big surprise for me. Their distain for each other was evident to me even as a kid. No wonder I turned out the way I am.

Some Jack Daniel's would do me good, right now…

Carmel, California. The O.C. in the making. Rich folks, hoes and fashion that would fit right in with the likes of Paris Hilton.

The flight was a long and tedious journey. With too many people, too less sleep and a headache that seemed to exceed every minute. What I really needed was alcohol. Something strong. Straight up from the bottle. Or perhaps another go at the punching bag. Either way I wasn't fussed.

After all, I had gone through the last week and a half doing the same thing. And the physical pain felt good. Great in fact. Although I would admit the bruised skin and the hangover wasn't much of a turn on.

Currently in my fatigue, my mind was drawing blanks. Mainly due to the sheer range of emotions going through me considering what I had to do next. What I wanted to do was a different story all together. The bed looked way too inviting, comfy but then I wasn't pay 600 bucks a night for nothing.

It didn't matter though. I had somewhere else to be. People, I needed to see.

Getting a cab was the easy part. But it was when the driver pulled up against the curb that the nervousness set in. I chucked the cabbie a 50, telling him to keep the change. It was all I could do to control the wild thumping of my heart.

Walking to the door, I refused to let my persevering thoughts get to me. My attempt at a poker face was unsuccessful. Fuck it! They may as well see the anguish, the anger. It was their fucking fault anyway.

The anticipation. That was the killer. Unsure of what to expect. Those were my thoughts as I waited for someone to answer the door. It turned out that I didn't have to wait long. There in all her blonde glory stood Nancy.

She didn't look all that different. Although the dark circles beneath her eyes was definitely a new addition. Other than that, she was the same. No signs of grays or excessive fat. But then she always did yabber on about impressions.

At first she didn't seem to recognize me. Her eyebrows were furrowed together in question, but then recognize dawn upon her features as she set her eyes on mine. Blue against blue. A lethal combination.

"Paul?" she gasped. Her hands covered her mouth. Her features held an expression of disbelief.

"Surprise," I said, my right eyebrow raised. After a fraction of a pause I added the word "mom", my tone severely mocking.

She didn't seem to notice though. Too caught up in the fact that I actually came. "I…I didn't think that you would come…Paul, I'm glad…"

"Sure...whatever," I cut her off. "I didn't come for you. This is for Jack. Just remember that." I guess the words had the effect or perhaps, it may have been the stony expression. Either way, Nancy ended up crying. Her face a sobbing mess, a complete turnover from the sophisticated persona she had portrayed just a few moment ago. It didn't effect me though.

Knowing her, it would most likely be an attempt at a sympathy vote. Did I look like a freaking five year old to fall for that trick?

"Spare me the crocodile tears would you? So…" after a brief pause I continued, "Where is good old Rick?"

She didn't answer me.

"Oh well. It's interesting to find that the two of you'll are 'living together.' Seriously it is. I mean the two of youl have been divorced…for how long …oh yeah, six years and now you'll are shacking up with each other once again." I smirked, "What daddy's little slut wasn't a keeper? Or was it the guy you hooked up with? Not rich enough?"

I didn't care to know the answers. This was merely an entertaining session for me. I hated their guts, they both knew that. And all this was their freakin' fault. They didn't give a shit about me. Neither Jack. That's why he ended up the way he is.

She raised a tantrum. Her voice was a roar, much louder than her usual soft spoken manner. "Stop it Paul. Just stop it."

"You think this is easy for me?" she questioned looking at me with an expression that spelled grief. I have to give her credit; she would have made a hell of an actress if she tried. "This isn't my fault…not your father's either. Jack…Jack….You can't blame everything that goes wrong on us. We weren't there when the accident…"

"Bloody hell! That was the freaking problem, you were never there." It was just no use, trying to communicate with her. Besides it was simply getting me more pissed off. I had to get out of there before…before I lost it.

"You know what, I should just forget it. I'll leave you to it then."

"Paul…no wait" but it was too late I already walked out the front door going somewhere. Anywhere. As long as it was far away from here.

I sprinted in straight sets for an hour, maybe a little more. Headed in no particular direction. I had no where in particular to be. And it's not like anyone gave a damn.

For all reputation and money, I was nothing. No one really cared about me It was funny to a certain extent, considering the number of women that have graced my bed or the status, I have gained as a barrister. In the end, it was all just baloney.

After a while I decided to call a cab. Might as well head back to Pebble Beach. I needed the sleep.

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**Alrighty so is it good, bad or oh no *cringe* ugly?**

**By the way I already said this before in the disclaimer but I'll say it again - the nickname of Suze (Green eyes) is taken from Hayley's fic - her Paul's are on the dot. Mine - I don't know why don't you tell me what you think...**

**The visit to his parent's house - anyone wondering why? Well I'll explain it - Paul feels responsible (slighty) for Jack's death because he was never really there for the little guy. He can't quite deal with it - he doesn't really know how to handle it appropriately. His thing is to escape from it - put the blame on someone else. Hence he blames his parents although he does acknowledge a small role...And he does this by bringing up not what they did to him (coz he doesn't like spelling out his emotions to anyone) so he sort of brings out how they are screw ups and all. Okay it probably doesn't make sense...Hope you can understand it. If not, just yeah ask me...  
**

**I promise that Suze will appear in the next chap and the funeral will take place...yes, some old ghosts to haunt Paulie...(maybe literally or figuratively or both? - so please review - gives me motivation to continue *big hopeful smile*)**

**Oh guys by the way I have created a discussion forum - your fav authors - so tell me about you're ones - I got mine up - everyone is welcome! Infact please join in - coz currently I'm talking to myself...*sulks.*  
**

**Thanks for reading. Paulie sends you his love...okay maybe not but I send you hugs so there...**


	4. Despair

**Sorry that you had to wait such long for an update****, my lovelies …or perhaps, you'll may have given up waiting…hope not…Unfortunately, the thing called uni was running my life havoc amongst other things…you know personal life problems and all that (the last few years have brought them on like no body's business) **

**Anyways a big thank you to all those who reviewed the last chapter: **_jayd-33_** (who seems utterly awesome), **_The Silver Bullet_** (who gives her stories such passion and zest - how can you not love them), **_XoRinoX_**, **_Heofon Tien_** (with your lovely reviews seriously girl thank you), **_Hot n' Exotic_** (totally miss her fics - they were amazing), the lovely Jax (i.e. **_Bunnylass_**) who I'm glad to hear is working on an update of FWIL which is utterly exciting and Ofcourse **_Bec_:** Thank you hun. Glad that you thought the previous chapter was "like Paul" - hope you believe the same for this one. Anyways this chapter is indeed about Jack's funeral and that's all I'm going to give away. You'll have to read to find out more. **

**Once again a big sorry (please don't throw tomatoes at your computer screen for the long long delay in this chapter. **

**This chapter is dedicated to **_ohlookitskassy_** for being such a stern supporter of this fic And if you'll haven't read any of her stuff, I definitely would recommend them – especially **_**Vengeance, Absolute**_**, if you're a fan of Paulie poo. And Hannah i.e. **TotallyTeamAlex**, both of whom have supported me in relation to this fic and who without I perhaps would have given up with this chapter.**

**Also have to say that MAROON 5's songs (particularly Songs about Jane) have been a massive inspiration in writing this chapter…Adam Levine to an extent reminds me of Paul Slater not in looks or anything although anyone with eyes can see that Levine is just YUMMY. Rather his character…I mean all of Maroon 5's songs have this sexual innuendo in them and plus Levine is just pure 'sex' (even his voice – check out the song 'Give a Little More' and you'll get what I'm saying). And some of their songs such as Shiver and Tangled could totally depict how Paul would have felt in certain parts of the books…yes, yes I might be using them eventually. **

**And lucky girl that I am I was treated to Mr. Levine for my 21st birthday...well not like that although that would have been great and all but I went to see Maroon 5 live and boy, are they brilliant. Anyways moving on. This is the previously anticipated chapter that a few have been asking about. Hope you'll like and review**

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**Chapter 3****: Despair**

Funerals are for most parts quite predictable. The 'mourning' family, the distant relatives who never otherwise visited, the 'friends' and finally the guilty parties whose sole reason for attendance is the need to console themselves.

The tears are merely a calculated mechanism. Fake droplets that serve the purpose of 'appearing' to be distraught at the loss of the individual. In truth some couldn't be happier. For them it is all about the will. What their shares would add up to.

I have been to many funerals, serving as the lawyer to diverge the information about the will. Who gets what, which tended to on most accounts lead to a battle that I was all too familiar with.

However this time, it was different…for me. Not simply because the service was conducted at the Junipero Serra Mission. But because this was the funeral of Jack Slater. The kid with the rambling problem. But more importantly the kid who happened to be my brother.

I had taken a seat at the back of the Church. The Catholic faith had never particularly appealed to me. Unlike my fellow Catholic 'brothers and sisters' I had never really been an active member of the Catholic Church. Not even during the Christmas day special.

I was skeptical of this idea of 'eternal salvation.' Not that I was necessarily averse to the concept of a higher being but it seemed more likely that this notion of God as a 'savior' was simply just that. A myth.

It didn't matter though. I was solely here for Jack. To pay him the dues that I owed him but had never once attempted to fulfill.

Perhaps, it worked for the better. The fact that I never intervened. After all, Jack had been successful, not only in a professional capacity rather this success was very much akin to his personal life.

A pretty little finance, an innumerable amount of friends, some who were truly despairing at his loss. It was ironic in a way, my brother, the stumbling-no-nothing who wanted nothing more than to be a mere replica of me, had everything that I desired.

I was envious of a dead man…the concept was not foreign to me. It was, after all, what my life had come to, what it had become: a futile existence. For all intents and purposes, I had become like my father. A successful fuck up with all the money in the world but no one who truly gave a damn. And to think that I had sworn that I would **never ever** trek down that path. God, if he did infact exist, had a wry sense of humour. My brother was now the success of the family, despite his dead status and I am nothing more than a bastard much like Rick.

I was glad when the mass began. The entrance hymn providing a soothing distraction from Nancy and Rick. The former claiming central stage as her body trembling with tear stricken 'grief.' At least she pretended to care which was more than I could say for Rick.

The ceremony followed the same old procedure. A series of mumbled prayers and black attire. Mourning for the death of a fellow human being.

Death, for most of us, is an obscure concept. No one knows why, where or how. The only certainty was that eventually each of us would be at its doorstep. Even incorporeal beings had an expiration date. Slaski had attempted to find the portion to immortality, all it got him was a series of liver spots and death before his time.

But then even playing good noble citizen had little meaning when it came to death. For all his childhood faults, Jack Slater had grown to be a good man. A charitable man. A much better man than myself.

That sense of grief, of heart wrenching grief was a suffocating presence in the Mission. A presence that grew tenfold when Kassandra had begun her eulogy. Kassandra or Kassy, her preferred name, a petite little blonde with a deep set of dimples that accentuated her smile, attractive in a pretty girl next door way. A consultant for PriceWaterhouseCoopers, she had worked alongside my brother, gradually becoming more than his colleague.

Her words were incoherent, jumbled with tears and nervous gestures. But the despair in her hazel brown eyes spoke of torment and suffering. Even Meryl Streep was not that good.

The girl was truly guttered. And I was beginning to feel a similar sentiment.

Despondency, anger and fear. I felt those emotions in varying degree and I was unsure how to handle these sensations. Thus far I had gone through life in an alcoholic haze attempting to surpass dejection through façade. Unfortunately none of them were accessible, at least not currently and despite my urgency to extinguish the burning ache in my gut, I could not leave the Mission's grounds. I owed Jack that much.

For the rest of the mass, I played Catholic following the little protocols of kneeling, standing and sitting…even the Eucharistic act. Deception has always been part of my charm.

The mass had eventuated into the Mission's burial grounds. 'A final tribute to Jack Slater.'

Those words had a misplaced tune. Jack Slater, honoree citizen of Carmel California was now, little more than a carcass, even my powers couldn't get me past that hurdle. It was ironic in a sense; within my capacity as a 'shifter' I had always overseen the dissepiment of lingering spirits and this one time…the first time that I actually wanted to reach a soul, I was out of luck.

Surprise, surprise even I had limits.

All that was left of Jack was what was present in that coffin. The coffin which was currently being carried by four suits, leading the procession to the cemetery. I followed the men, another wave in the sea of black attire.

There was little relief to be felt outside in the burning heat that the Carmel sun brought on. At any other point in time, I would be indulging in the luminous warmth but now the bright blue cloudless sky was little more than a mockery. A mockery of the life that had, just over a week ago, departed…departed beyond the doors of the Shadowland and much beyond my reach. I had no way to repent for my past actions, to tell Jack that despite what it may have appeared, I did indeed care. It would not have enough but at the very least, it would have been something.

I watched the series of 'mourners' precede towards the base of the Mission's churchyard. The coffin was placed on the ground and once again the priest led us through a series of verses which sounded remarkably like rehearsed poetry. He finally concluded but the pretense still continued as person after person followed through to where Jack's now open casket lay. With a handkerchief in hand and tears in her eyes, Nancy was playing the part of distraught mother to perfection. Rick stood by her side, unfazed by the whole ordeal. More fool me, expecting more from someone who made me seem like a Good Samaritan.

I had joined the succession of individuals, queuing to say my final goodbyes to the corpse that was no longer Jack Slater. Perhaps, redemption was beyond me but I had not come this far to leave without saying goodbye.

But that thought had dissipated as I stared into the face of…me…a younger Paul Slater. Jack's previous mangle of brown waves had now gained some semblance. The brown curls very much a mirror of my own. His skin was a much paler version of my tanned complex. Death would be do that to you.

I could feel the heavy expectant gazes of my parents as I moved past them but that ship had sailed a long time ago. I had little more than insults to trade but I respected Jack much more than that.

I walked past their silent, watchful forms. Ignoring their presence as I walked straight ahead towards the Mission gates. The burial would soon be in progress but for now, I needed to stop _feeling_…guilt and anger never made for a good combination at least not within a crowded radius. I was craving to be lost in an emotional haze. Marijuana had always been a cure, in small doses. A temporary high to withhold the emotional longing. By no means, a solution according to Dr. Quinn but then Lisa had always been more of a traditionalist.

I had barely taken two steps towards the Mission's gate when I heard a soft lithe voice say my name. The Brooklyn accent, that I always found so alluring, was still present but now it was little more than a subtle. Susannah Simon, the girl who had claimed a part of me without reverence, happiness or anything so emancipating as 'love' or more accurately, the illusion of love. The last time I saw her, she was naked on my bed, vulnerable yet berating. But for a minute or perhaps even lesser, I glanced at an emotion more substantial than the lust that had formed the foundation of the latter half of our relationship…if it could even be called one.

And 13 years later, that green eyed girl still had an overwhelming power over me. Physically, emotionally…spiritually. I was consumed by an urge to take her over. To be over her, under her, inside her. To get under her skin, the way she had gotten under mine. At least, she never recognized the hold she had over me. Self-esteem was all I really had left and even that was questionable.

I turned around steeling my features into little more than cold detachment. The intricacies of my emotions were masked into a far corner. I was unsure of what to expect from this Suze but then Susannah Simon had always kept me under wraps. Although she never realized it.

Her green eyes looked intently into mine. She was attempting to gage me, gage my emotions. Only it was thirteen years too late. And yet my heart thudded that extra bit louder as I noticed how well that black dress clung to her frame. And her brown hair, that dark brown mane of luscious curls was cut in a bob, sitting just above her shoulders.

The silence that proceeded kept my feet glued to the ground. I could do little but watch her as she came forward and tiptoed, offering me a hug. For solace or for etiquette, I wasn't sure. "I'm sorry for your loss", she stated.

Her lithe voice lingering in my ears as she pulled away. And once again, I found myself craving that soft warmth of her body, even that heady perfume scent that she brought in but more so, Susannah herself. "He admired you, you know….The fact is he moved to Carmel at 18. It was not just for the whole novelty of being independent and living away from your parents. He did it because it reminded him of his older brother. The last time he saw you."

Knowing this, did little to appease my current state. I had little to say to defend myself and I couldn't possibly deprecate myself, at least not in front of the girl who for the last thirteen years haunted me. Haunted the very essence of me. And yet, seeing her today, a mature 31 year old woman. I couldn't help but feel guilt that I had eradicated her chance at happiness. Indeed that happiness may have been fleeting but at least, she would have it on her own terms, her own accord.

"Yeah, the last time." Of course, the last time I saw my brother, I was in Settle packing my bags and leaving to Carmel. For change, for Suze, for respite. Fuck, even I don't know.

The guy was little then. He was scared of me, at that point and considering all that had come to light, I couldn't blame him. "I'll make it up to him, I promise." I said out loud, to no one in particular.

Holding her smaller hands in my own. I stepped forward and bent down, putting her stunned lips against mine. A fleeting kiss. "Goodbye Suze", I stated and walked away. Forcing myself to look forward and not glance back.

For my brother, I would do just that.

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**Please, please leave me a review…I'm pretty sure that my written skills has disbanded since I last updated – or perhaps Paul Slater has left the premises because this chapter was just bloody hard. I had to overcome it step by step – within the last couple of months I have spent a good 4-5 hours per week attempting to finish this chapter and all I got was a few lines here and there. And my frustration is understandable when you consider that the previous two chapters only took approximately the 5 hour mark and that too in one go.**

**But anyways I have overcome the hurdle and all…hopefully I didn't do an awful job at it. Please let me know what you think.**

**Love ya all…**


	5. 14 years ago

**Hello girls and boys. So it was a little bit disappointing to see only one review and having to persuade others to review if they wanted to see the next chapter. But anyways now that the review count has increased to 3 which is relatively decent and really not that much to ask. Anyways you guys know the gist please review. **

**I have honestly dedicated myself to finishing this fic so the updates I promise will be regular unlike previously.**

**I have to say a big big thankyou to **_fizii_ **who is an absolute sweetheart. Check out her stories people. Sorry I haven't really had too much time to check out your fic but I will today...**

**To **_Lisa**:**_** oh shucks, thanks I hope that I can live up to the expectation. I'm so glad you liked it and thanks for the 'super awesome' review.**

**And ofcourse to **_ohlookitskassy_**:** **Lol...yes, your little cameo. I thought you would like it...heheh. Ofcourse your review made my day. I was nervous to be truthful about writing the 3rd chapter - breaking my head and all but I'm glad to hear from a great writer and a Paul lover like myself that I did not completely destroy the character.**

**And now I'll let you'll read**

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_**Chapter 4: 14 years ag**_

_"In a world, full of injustice, we should strive to be equal to be accepting, to be accommodating especially to those individuals less fortune than ourselves. You can help us change the world, change the future so that, perhaps in time, the notion of poverty will be eradicated and we all will be given the same opportunities as the person next to us."  
_

_To be honest, I had no idea why I stepped into a seminar conducted by the Red Cross Appeal in the Mission's auditorium, no less. Ofcourse a befitting venue considering that the 5 or 6 people attending had to be considerably generous of spirit to reach the $5,000 funding mark that Katherine has been vying for.  
_

_Equality, the notion that Katherine was selling, was little more than an abstract concept. One that would never be attained. Humanity was not made to be equal. If you believed in a Higher Being then it would be foolish for you to assume that God did not play favourites. Hell! John was Jesus' most 'beloved' disciple.  
_

_We're all human right. Big on flaws, slight on perfection. But our potential varies and that, my friends, creates our differences. My potential exceeds the normative ofcourse. I was born near to perfect. Brown hair, blue eyes and a winning smile.  
_

_I had shown promise, at the age of four when my ability to quickly grasp and calculate sums that were deemed for those twice my age had been recognized. Personally, everything came easy. A puppy eyed glance, a toothy grin was all I needed, to gain whatever commodity held my attention for that point in time.  
_

_When I became older, things were slightly more difficult. But in the end I always got what I wanted. I bet that I could even convince the CIA to let me glance at their Op list. I was just that good.  
_

_You need little more than power to win your way through the world. And that I had in bucket loads along with a great package. I was every girls' wet dream come alive. And sure that might sound cocky, arrogant, narcissist even. But then it was true.  
_

_Shifters were stated to be the evolved shamans. Like our ancestors, our soul could 'shift' into the different realm. The Shadowland, which if one ventures into further enough, would translate into a gateway to the Underworld. Not a place that I was likely to delve into considering the phosphorus deal that Slaski ended up making, with a demon no less.  
_

_The promise of time travel itself held a lot of appeal. It was a discovery that perpetrated his status to new heights among the academics of folk law. A fictional concept for those who failed to understand this specialty as anything more than an unambitious low. Regardless, Oliver Slaski's name had credentials, not one that Rick Slaski wanted to be associated with. Couldn't blame the guy for renouncing his birth name, after all, impressions were a necessity in my father's world.  
_

_Success at the end of it equates to money. After all, everything had a price. Even Susannah Simon, ofcourse she would deny it, especially where I'm concerned. While some of it had to do with decorum, as such the majority of it arose from a misconstrued idea of Rico Suave being her one and only although the guy was well and truly, a deadbeat. But then the whole hands-off deal just makes her all the more appealing.  
_

_I had never been one of those guys to say no to a challenge and the reward, I knew would be immense. Despite Suze's resilience, the girl was all passion. Dainty females had never been my thing but then, in the case of Kelly Prescott, the commodity was hot and available. A good fuck, if you will. And ofcourse, my first preference was being rather stubborn in her denial.  
_

_But even then, denial only ran so far. Suze had caved. Sure, I didn't manage to persuade her to go further than the five minute mark but the fact remains that the girl wanted me plain and simple. The only complication arose was the do-goody complex that she made her a viable target for the dead and their varying demands but then it was that very trait that held me so captivated by her.  
_

_All that stood in the way was the speck of a man that Jesse De Silva literally was. Although dead, he was well and truly alive for Suze and thus, all my measures to eradicate his being had all but failed. The fact remains that Susannah Simon fancies herself in love with the Spaniard. And the remedy for that was pure and simple: A future rather a present, where De Silva was nothing more than a 19th century figment. _

_According to the current scientific belief, the human body is not able to withstand anything beyond the three-dimensional-space-and-time continuum. But we shifters are naturally built to withstand dimensional changes. Slaski stated that as the shifter's powers intensify, he could move not simply his soul but his actual physical being beyond the earth plane.  
_

_Bloody dumbass didn't realize that it left him vulnerable with not a grass root hope of coming back. Which ofcourse, left him with little opinion but to trade his soul if he wished to see daylight again. Slaski, ofcourse, had little idea that I was aware of his mishap but the bugger always underestimated me. Inter-dimensional travel obviously notched you down a brain cell or two. Your physical being would deteriorate in time but not to the point that Slaski demonstrated. _

_The old guy found some loophole within the deal; after all, if the demon didn't quite fulfill his end then he got off scotch free. A brilliant plan really but ofcourse Slaski didn't believe in sharing, at least not anymore. He learned his lesson but just a little too late. _

_The fifth dimension wasn't quite as daunting as the Underworld. Despite Hollywood's belief in time-machines, travelling into the past was not particularly difficult. However, despite even my potent, the future would always remain so. The fifth dimension, in terms of events yet to be, was somewhat undefined. There was a stricken belief that such attempts would create a vortex in which the individual would be stuck in, for days, for years, some even believe eternity. For the here and now, I was happy to concentrate solely on eliminate Suze's roommate. A simple but effective plan. One that would guarantee Suze on my bed and well, who knows.  
_

_Of course, the girl would deem my action callous. But then she wouldn't be any the wiser, after all, my little 'transgression' would change the events in the foreseeable future including the very fact that Suze would not be wasted away pining over some…ghost.  
_

_Besides if anyone should come under the pump, it's Suze. It's evident, after all, that the girl had thought about sticking Enrique's soul down my throat. Perhaps it may only have been for a second but nonetheless it could occur. Especially considering the fact that Suze wields a lot of raw power and the girl doesn't even realize it. Even wiling her time, thinking about the very fact puts my soul in jeopardy. After all, I had not yet attained full control of my abilities and considering that as a shifter, my soul was prone to acting as a separate entity. Well, it could be easily parted.  
_

_Sure, Susannah Simon was all about social justice, ready to part with her very life for those who didn't even share that very attribute. But the fact remains: even the most 'trustworthiness' of people are capable of performing the most horrendous crimes known to man. And all things considering, couldn't blame the girl if she tried._

_Carmel, California looked undeniably different in the 1850s. Barren of all luxuries except the Mission which would firmly remain a central attraction even 150 years down the track. Ofcourse, the Mission didn't hold the same grandee as it did in the 21st century. It was yet to be rebuilt into a semi decent structure. And that would occur ofcourse, in approximately three decades. For now, a substantial portion of the Church was rubble beneath my feet. The stone walls crumbling as I leaned against it for support.  
_

_It was hard to gain my bearing in the dark. But then at the same point, I would be able to snoop around unnoticed. In this time period, people had no qualms about killing those who trespassed their property, not that I would ever be caught.  
_

_I had a day perhaps two to find the slave runner and salvage Jesse's life. Have him living his 1850s dream so that I could satiate mine.  
_

_Figuring my way through to Jesse's place of death, the Ackerman's place of residence in the 21st century, was a little heavy handed considering that I had little to go by in the way of a map, at least not the 1850 version. Luckily enough for myself, I was well acquainted with Suze's district. Besides a couple of stumbling blocks, I managed to find the boarding house, complete with peeling paint and bullets engrained within the cement.  
_

_A barn was around the corner in the place where Suze's backyard would eventually be. Whilst I had never equated hay accompanied with the strong stench of horse manure as a great place to sleep, in the circumstance, there was little option but to accept the humble board. But unfortunately despite my sleep deprived state, there were things that needed to be attended to.  
_

_Putting on my 'polite' smile which always seemed to grace my mother's lips, I went over to the boarding house, knocking loud enough to be heard but tentatively enough to not be considered rude. It took a minute or two for a woman to answer the door; in a hoopskirt no less. At any other time, I would have found the whole deal rather amusing but I knew better than to express that thought.  
_

_"Yes?" The woman asked me, her expression both curious while simultaneously being suspicious.  
_

_"Ah! Yes. My name is Charles Edward. I'm…an acquaintance of Mr. De Silva…" Somehow the term 'friend' evaded my lips. Too much of a sham, even for me.  
_

_"Mr. De Silva?" she asked. I nodded my head briskly, hoping the lady would give me the freaking information already.  
_

_"Mr. De Silva will be arriving here tomorrow morning. Is there anything I can do…?" Ofcourse, the woman was unsure what I wanted but then I wasn't here to appease here. I was here to test out Slaski's time-travelling theory but foremost, to win the girl.  
_

_"No, thank you Mrs…"  
_

_"Mrs. O'Neil", she said rather sweetly. The Slater charm has always been particularly persuasive._

_Flashing my award winning smile, I stated, "Well, thank you Mrs. O'Neil," somewhat sarcastically although it seemed to be rather lost on the woman. "You have been most helpful." _

_Which meant that De Silva had yet another day and I could finally get some sleep._

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******Okay so there is a reason why this chapter is in**n why this chapter is in place. I know it strays a little from the 32 year old Paul script although it had always been in my plans so bear with me. And if this Paul seems a little less broken than the 32 year Paul, well there's a reason for it. All will be revealed in time...my dearies...

**And ofcourse please leave a review if you want to stay tuned for more of Paulie...**


	6. Desperate

**Okay so I'm backkkkkk...Apparently I did receive that 3rd review that I had been waiting for and my fault for not checking my ffn account...There seems to be some confusion in relation to the previous chapter...it is slightly ambiguous for that reason though...and things should be clearer soon. I initially thought that this story would be fairly short but 5 chapters in and I'm thinking that my initial belief of it being 6 to 7 chapters was absolutely foolish...Anyways hope you'll enjoy...and review. This one is out to fizii for her general loveliness...Please read her fic Canada. And ofcourse to you my dear Kassandra (.it') who has become a little feature in this story. Hope you'll like**

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**Chapter 5: Desperate**

There is something so pathetically perfect about not caring, about losing yourself, whole and soul. Despite the blood, the bruises, the gut retching ache in my jaw all I felt a sense of calm, or perhaps it was because of it. Street fights were not something commonly associated with good old Carmel. But like every town, there were those willing to trade up legalities for a quick buck, or so they believed. Unlucky bastards, the dime might come but the price is something else altogether.

I had been through the rough and tumble before. But in most cases, it was simply for show. A muck up, look-at-me-I'm-it. These fights though they were something else…death was a common occurrence and whilst I had many dealing with the Underbelly bosses I always ensured to not piss them off. After all, my connections only run so deep.

Considering my state of rapture, it was not too far-fetched for individuals to believe that I shot up. Clearly the cleaner or whoever the hell she was believed so considering the wide eyed shocked look she tossed around my bedroom and then the quick scramble from my room, forgoing the requisite cleaning service. Well, can't blame the chick, after all, what fucking idiot smiles when blood is dripping down his jaw. The wound was superficial but nevertheless it was bleeding profusely. I should have put that 'Do not disturb' sign but sufficient to say, I was otherwise occupied.

Oh well, money pays for silence and the Pebble Beach staff did pride themselves on discretion. It is California, after all.

To be honest, I could barely remember the last 16 or so hours…I recall paying the 20 bucks to join the night festivities. Back during my days at the Mission, Mike had been the guy who knew how to get stuff. Damn bastard always did love that warehouse. Surprise, surprise, thirteen years later and the loser is still trading out in that piece of dump. But really once you're in, you never get out. It was something I could well relate to.

Violence is not a solution, ofcourse, well atleast not pragmatically. But who the fuck wanted logic when all you could feel was anger…regret. I used to pride myself on being the know-it-all, the guy with all the answers. Yet, I had no idea what I was doing, perhaps hoping that a resolution would fall into my lap. That I wouldn't once again disappoint Jack. Unfortunately for me, divine intervention seemed very unlikely. But then it always had been.

And yet I could feel little. Actually I felt fuck all. There's something to be said about being content about being heartless, a bastard. At least that overwhelming need for that something…was curbed down to a lull. I simply felt more energized despite my lack of sleep and my recent punch on. And yet I wanted to do little more than sit down and revise the chapters that formed my life.

For the next few hours, time was a vacuum filled with little more than hours, minutes and seconds. And as I began to dwell on my past, I found the resolve somewhere within me and found myself for the first time praying to who, I didn't know, but I prayed none the less for Jack, for myself, for forgiveness.

The cascading water felt smooth against my skin. A soothing presence cooling my heated skin. The shower was long overdue considering the dry red crusts that had formed against my jaw. The image against the bathroom mirror now simply showed a light pink bruise. Courtesy of my shifter roots ofcourse

As I emerged from the bathroom, I heard the hotel phone ring. The ringing abruptly ended and then began again. I answered the call. Reception obviously. Wonders of wonders really. Perhaps I should have paid the cleaner than and there. I was surprised when instead of reprimand, or well as much authority as a hotel manager could give a customer who had presumably gotten drugged up, a girl merely asks in a timid voice, "Mr. Slater?"

"Yeah?"

"Hmmm…I have someone here for you. A Kassandra Taylor. Should I…?"

"I'll come down", I stated quickly, wiping my hair with the towel while I, simultaneously put on jeans and a T-shirt.

I deliberated the reasons for this visitation. Nancy perhaps? It was a valid conclusion but one that was based on little more than presumption. I was hopeful, I guess, wanting to believe that perhaps she wanted to meet me on my own merit; that Jack spoke about me.

As I stepped into the reception of Pebble Beach, I looked around, seeking the blonde, brown eyed girl that I had caught a mere glimpse of at the funeral. The reception was empty except for a couple of bellboys and a black haired receptionist. I ignored the wide eyed stare I received from her as I relayed the phone call. It was a look I had received many a times and now I rarely paid it much heed.

I was directed to the corner lounge, the brass golden walls and the crystal chandelier was simply overkill but then tasteful was not necessary in the cards of those who visited the resort. It was there simply to impress.

It did not seem to have that impact on Jack's girl though. The girl seemed squeamish, at least for this particular visit. I took my time in approaching Kassy. It was a rule of thumb in poker to observe the other players, opponent or otherwise, to understand their intentions or attempt to. And yet, all I could draw on was my earlier belief. I couldn't explain why I felt a certain kinship to this girl perhaps it was the fact that she was as lost as I was or maybe, it simply our association with Jack. Well, her association atleast.

"Hi, Kass….Is it alright if I call you Kassy?" I asked as I seated myself opposite her. A slight gasp escaped from her. The startled expression she gave me clearly indicated that she was caught up in her own thoughts.

"Jac…You're…Paul?" she asked, a statement and yet a question. "You look so much like him…Sorry, I…" Her words were soft and I had to strain to hear it above the slight bustle within the hotel complex.

I was unsure whether a response was required and if so, what would be appropriate given the circumstance. The girl looked like she would break down at any moment in time and whilst I've never particularly cared about those on the verge of a mental illness, I found myself feeling this undeniable urge to protect her, to ensure that she did not cross that path.

She was delicate and yet that vulnerability was something precious…and not for the millionth time, I found myself being happy for Jack and cursing myself for the seething jealousy. It wasn't Kassy as much as it was my situation.

"Do you want a drink, coffee perhaps?" I was unsure how to proceed. The offer wasn't merely generosity on my part. I needed a drink, and the idea of caffeine seemed to do the trick.

The thought however, didn't seem to have the same effect on Kassy. "No, thank you. I'm…I'm fine." Her fidgety movements though seemed to indicate otherwise.

A simply twitch of my finger had the bellboy literally running to appease me. I ordered my coffee, "black and strong. And the lady will have…a glass of water?" I asked directing my gaze to Kassy, raising my eyebrows in question

"…water would be lovely. Thank you."

"Charge it to room 106." The bellboy disappeared as quickly as he came. Much to my relief and disappointment. For it meant that I had to sit down and discuss a topic that I would much rather close of.

"So, I guess you're here in relation to Jack?"

She turned those big brown eyes towards me, her watery gaze conveying so much of the desolation that she felt; that I felt. "I guess it's obvious isn't it?"

"Did Nan…my mum send you?"

"No. Well, she did tell me that you had come to Carmel…for Jack.. that you would most likely be living in the Pebble Beach." She smiled - a small smile. "And she was right."

"I know, it's not really my business…whatever happened between yourself and your parents. You just….never know when…whether you will have another chance. Jack always abided that rule, you know. It's why…"

Ofcourse, it was when I was listening intently, wanting to know more that the waiter had chosen to deliver the coffee but then you had to credit them the fast delivery. The sip that I had taken provided me with a strong hit of Brazilian coffee. Just how I like it.

Kassy drank the water in big gulps, draining the whole glass in one go. Apparently, she needed a drink as much as I did.

"Kassy, you were saying?" I know that I was a bastard for doing this when the girl was clearly on the edge but I wanted to know about Jack. I needed to know more. To help m me. To help him.

"Sorry…I" And she began to cry. Fuck!

"I think Jack knew…he knew…" And her tears become sobs. I could barely understand what she was stating. I was aware of the gawking that had resulted due to her little episode. But it wasn't the sole reason for my moving next to Kassy and putting her head on my shoulder although I was shaking visibly with the effort. Solace was something she needed and I found myself, not too reluctantly wanting to offer her the comfort she so desperately required.

For five minutes or so, we sat together reflecting on the reason for why we both were here. Eventually, she lifted her head. Her brown eyes staring straight into my blues. In her eyes, I found resolution and a desperate need for something…

"I actually came here to give you this" She said as you handed me a leather bound black journal. "…It's Jack's dairy...He told me about his abilities, your abilities too. Suz. Susannah Simon…I believe you know her...She helped him" She spoke rapidly, pausing only occasionally to keep her emotions in check. "She's the reason why he began the charity fund…why he made up with his parents, why he asked me to marry him so soon although he wanted to settle down financially before even contemplating marriage. But I think he knew…I think he knew he was going to die, Paul."

I was incapable of speech, even if I wanted to and all I could think about was that the fact that Jack could see the future? That certainly wasn't the capabilities of a mediator and beyond even that of a shifter. And Suze…I couldn't quite understand where exactly she fit in the picture…All I was left with was more questions.

"Kassy, what do you mean…why do you think that Jack knew that he was going to die?"

She swallowed, her eyes tearful but she was visibly attempting to hold those tears back. "He…a week or two before he died. He gave me this dairy. He told me to keep it safe…that it was for you. And the night before…the accident, we got married, it a small ceremony. No one knew about it but he said that it was a symbol of his love, that he would always love me. And…and I thought it odd at that point when he talked about life and death…and he said that he wanted me to move on…if anything should…"

Her words had become incoherent then as she wrapped her arms around my neck and began crying her heart out, staining my white shirt with her tears. I simply held her, one arm around her back and the other gripping Jack's book. Unsure if it offered a solution or a dilemma…


End file.
